Make Up For My Salad
by Malfoyesque Tendencies
Summary: Draco attends a business meeting and recognises an old familiar face. He finds himself confronted by inappropriate thoughts. Oh, how that boy has matured! And what a cocky prat he has become. Not WW2 battle compliant obviously, because my Colin is alive . Inspired by a recent photograph I saw of Hugh Mitchell. Give it a chance! WARNING: GRAPHIC MATURE CONTENT.


**Author's Note:** I never _ever_ thought I would write let alone consider this ship! But I was on tumblr the other week and happened to stumble across this picture of Hugh (who played colin in the movies)… it gave my brain all sort of mixed feelings! But the one that stuck out most was "I have to write a dirty fic. Right now." :D Hope it changes your mind on the idea of draco/colin!

Go look up Hugh Mitchell to see his current goth/rock look. Stupid FF won't let me link pictures on here.

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Bright blue orbs pierced into my own grey eyes. I felt a familiar tug of annoyance pulling at me from somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach.

_Seriously? The fucking Creevey kid? Is there ever going to be a day I'm not running into old school peers? _I thought under my breath as the childish grin enunciated his now very masculine jawline. Trying not to notice the great job that puberty had done on him; I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and brushed it off as adjusting myself in the flat-backed chair as Colin casually flung himself into the one opposite me.

"Draco Malfoy," his voice was no longer the high-pitched, irritating squeak it had been at school either, it was deep and rich. The ever-present excitement he always bubbled with from talking to an older student still lingered at the back of his throat though, "I didn't think my day was going to be this exciting."

"And what exactly," I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes and instead folded my arms across my chest, "is that supposed to mean?" I eyed off the tacky, worn leather jacket that bore cheap metal studs on the collar, the way his now long, dirty blonde hair kept sliding from behind his ears and into his face only to be haphazardly brushed back with a fingerless-gloved hand of chipped black nail polish, the almond shaped eyes messily coloured in with black liner. _How crude, _I thought, trying to convince myself that the way the muggle labret ring hugged his lower lip didn't want to make me take it into my own mouth and suck on it.

A tall, dark haired waiter appeared at our table, notepad already out and pen in hand. "Would you like to see the lunch menu for today Mr. Creevey?" his eyes lingered on the patch of bare skin on display from the low cut of his singlet for longer than would seem polite. Colin didn't seem to mind.

"Just the usual for me Aiken," the younger man smiled, "but for my friend-"

"Oh that's presumptuous of you Creevey," I cut him off, narrowing my eyes and plucking the menu up from the table, "your _friend? _I can order for myself, thanks."

Colin waved a hand in the air in a loose apology that was lost on me as I glared down at the café's low quality eating options. I wasn't sure if I was more annoyed at the younger man's demeanour or his dress sense or the way he was currently entering my thoughts in a way I would never fantasize about a Gryffindor, but the urge to get up and leave was rising by the minute. _Calm yourself Draco, _I mentally coaxed myself, _this is supposed to be a business meeting. _

"Just a chicken salad," I conceded, not finding anything else on the menu even slightly appetising, "and a glass of your house white." As I glanced up, I saw this Aikenfellow tear his eyes off of Colin and begin scribbling. I added, "It _is_ decent white, isn't it?"

Aiken nodded, "it's Chardonnay Sir."

This time I really did roll my eyes, hand the menu to him and watched as he bustled away; though I couldn't blame him for the way he had drank in the sight of the dirty blonde. Colin's eyes followed the slight swish of his ass as he returned behind the counter on the other side of the room. I cocked my eyebrow, making a mental note of that.

"So, to what does my expertise owe the pleasure of a meeting with the infamous Malfoy?" Colin's eye's brightened as my name rolled off his tongue, although he may as well have spat it from the way a shiver crept down my spine. Four years later and I still felt the underlying sting of 'Death Eater' wrapped around my last name, regardless of with what tone it was spoken.

"As you should be aware, Creevey, I do not run the Seeker Weekly, I'm one the journalists. The editor has organised this meeting to which I have to conduct and analyse if your work is up to the standard required for the job I necessitate," I lectured, finding comfort in taking charge of the situation, "as my recent partner has become… indisposed." I baulked on the last word, unsure of how to make it sound like I didn't off him. Colin didn't miss a beat and grinned.

"So, if I take this job, I have a chance of becoming _indisposed _through your ministrations too?" he grinned a suggestive, lopsided grin that made me shift in my seat again. _At what point exactly did this little shit become so cocky and arrogant?_

"Don't be so coy as to think _you_ will be the final decider on this proposition," I sat forward and leaned my elbows on the white tablecloth as the waiter came back with a pint of Guinness and my white wine, placing them before us. "I only partner up with the best photographers. I expect the highest degree of work to accompany my published articles; if I had known they had organised a meeting with you I might not have bothered to even show up." Colin's casual slouch transformed into one of straight-backed eagerness.

"I think my work speaks for itself, Malfoy," he drew out a very small purple folder from his pocket and tapped it discreetly with his wand; it expanded to normal A4 size and slid it across the table. I ran my eyes over the confident face – so similar yet so dramatically different in form; the little boy from my second year had become a well chiselled, _attractive_ man. Trying not to watch how he licked his bottom, full, pink lip and pressed it to his glass, I shook my thoughts away. Opening the folio I was met by a bright, well focussed action shot of the current Holyhead Harpies' seeker performing a barrel roll, only inches from the ground. The second photograph was a similar action shot, this time of one of the Puddlemere United's beaters swinging their bat and skimming the short hair of the Chudley Cannon's chaser. The third, Montrose Magpies' keeper; his boot firmly connecting with the oncoming quaffle in front of one of the high hoops over and over again in flawless film. Surely these shots could only have been obtained whilst on a broom right next to the players – but the cheering blurred crowd in the background of each photo confirmed that they must have been taken from the sidelines of the pitch.

"These are great," I decided aloud, as each flip of paper providing more and more confirmation that Colin had been fronted for this interview for a very good reason. "These are really great shots Creevey."

"I spend a lot of time making sure I am always in the perfect position for anything that's likely to happen," he replied, his tone was serious now. "Normally I am working with two cameras at once, one set up with an automatic capture charm, the other I manually control."

I flicked from a picture of Puddlemere United team standing triumphantly on a gold podium and the next photograph made my breath catch in my throat. It was a muggle picture, and the subject was a tall, toned male whose face was hidden by his hair; it was not the focal point of the photograph. One hand was grasping his thin cap-sleeved shirt, pulling it up to reveal a perfectly chiselled torso and one hard nipple; the other mimicked the action with his unzipped jeans, yanking them down. His erect, long dick stood proudly against the sparse snail-trail of dark hair, reaching out and up towards the camera. His form was beautiful, and somehow Colin had managed to portray the crudeness of the subject as a work of art. My cheeks felt hot and I realised I had baulked conversation and had been openly staring at the nude photograph. I quickly turned to the next page, and was confronted by the same model, this time only a silhouette of his ass, side on with hands clasped around the bulge that was unmistakably his cock and balls. Every following photo was complimentary to the two former, the models changing after every few pages.

"Quidditch might be what sells, but I have a taste for appreciating the male form," Creevey said evenly, eyes glued on mine when I looked up at him. "I find it's much more interesting and beautiful to capture than a Wronsky Feint any day."

I opened my mouth to respond –not entirely sure what I was going to say- but was saved by the dark-haired Aiken lad appearing once more with our meals. My chicken salad looked limp and unappetising, but it was currently the last thing on my mind and I didn't even comment on it or demand a fresh plate; all I could think of was Colin, crouching behind one of those muggle cameras while an unnamed man undressed in front of his lens. _Did he get hard photographing these men? Did he shag them? Were they paid models? Or were they Colin's playboys? _ I took the first sip of my forgotten wine and peered over the rim of the glass to study the younger man. He definitely wouldn't have trouble helping anyone into his bed chambers, with those bad boy eyes and the cool confidence that radiated around him. My cock twitched at the thought and I took a large swig of my Chardonnay. Aiken was lingering, drawn to Colin like a moth to a flame, he was openly flirting and the blonde smiled up at him with that crooked grin.

As the waiter headed back to the kitchens, I placed my –now considerably less full- drink down and stared at Colin. "Are you planning on fucking that waiter or just trying to get a free meal?"

Colin laughed; a short, sharp bark that caught in his throat and sat forward sheepishly. "I apologise, I should be more professional shouldn't I?"

"You should. But I don't think professional would suit you, and I would hate for you to make an arse of yourself," I drawled.

"Oh so you care about me now?" That smug little grin again. I was beginning to think he had spent most of his later school years spying on me; his smirk was so genuine. He took half of his club sandwich and devoured it a considerable amount in a single bite.

"Don't flatter yourself," I choked, trying not to imagine those full, pouty lips taking in something more suggestive, "I merely meant in my company, I wouldn't want you to embarrass me if I was seen with you." I turned my attention to my pitiful salad, still untouched on the plate while Colin was halfway through swallowing down his second mouthful of bread.

"I could ask Aiken to replace that for you," Colin suggested as he watched me eyeing it with distaste.

"No," I said quickly, shifting in my seat; the strain of material at my groin was becoming uncomfortable, "I'm not exactly hungry for salad anyway."

His eyes met my own and a certain tension filled the air. The purple folio was open between us to an image of a long, aurburn-haired guy on his knees, thumb in his mouth and the other hand shoved deep into the front of his plain grey boxer-briefs. I felt my face flush and pushed the folder closed.

"Do you… want to take this interview somewhere else?" Colin suggested, his eyes flickering between my hand rested on his folder and my pink face. I scowled, _to think! The Creevey brat, making a pass at me! A Malfoy! The nerve..._ I glanced back at Colin and swallowed my superiority; the guy had come-to-bed eyes that he was currently using to make the blood rush straight to my groin, and it was working.

"You are so crass," I muttered, pulling a fifty out of my pocket and chucking it onto the table. I stood and began towards the door with my chin high, not looking back to check if Colin was coming; I could feel the skin on the back of my arms tingle as the younger man moved close behind. Out on the street the cool air hit me at the same time that I felt Colin's breath on the back of my neck.

"Where to now?"

I spun to face him, feeling satisfied that I was still a few inches taller than him, and saw the deep lust etched into the irises of his sky blue eyes. My cock twitched and I bit my lip to supress the urge to push him up against the wall and take him there and then. "My car is parked around here." I lead us down a side street and pointed at a black Peugeot parked on the curb.

"How discreet," Colin cooed at the sight of the tinted windows. I rolled my eyes at his comment, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he ran one long finger across the boot lid. Making to open the driver's door, I was caught off guard as I felt a strong, rough hand rest on my forearm, stopping me. "I think this is somewhere else enough."

I released my hand from the door handle and allowed Colin to press against me, pushing me between his jean-clad body and the car. Hands fell either side of my torso against the metal and he leaned in, catching my earlobe with his teeth. I could feel his hard length pushing against his pants as he rolled his hips onto mine and sending delicious jolts of excitement to pool in my loins.

"Still so presumptuous Creevey," I groaned as he planted a soft kiss at the base of my ear. He moaned in reply. "You think I would let you filthy up my paintjob?"

"No," Colin pulled back enough to grin and lick his lips slowly, "I was thinking more the leather interior."

His cocky attitude and bluntness kept driving the blood into my dick with every suggestion. I growled low in my throat, unable to supress the urges any longer and grabbed two fistfuls of cheap, faded jacket and thrust the younger man off me just enough to swap positions. He gasped softly as his ass hit the back panelling and I pushed my mouth against his for that first, delightful taste of lips and in his case, metal. I tugged the ring between my teeth and sucked his lower lip into my mouth, revelling in the salty taste of Guinness mixed in with something that was purely Colin. He moaned unabashedly into my mouth, hands finding the waistband of my black slacks and fumbling to pull out the tucked in button down shirt I was wearing. Breaking apart momentarily, purely because air was a vital asset in continuing to stay conscious, I used the opportunity to reach down the side of Colin, yank the back passenger door open and pushed the younger man inside. He scrambled backwards on his elbows, allowing me room to follow suit. The backseat, conveniently lengthened by a charm, was wide and more than accommodating. Finding the door handle with my foot I slammed it shut and preceded to pull out my wand.

"What's that for?" Colin asked, his voice thick with want.

"I don't particularly fancy getting heard," I replied. Colin's hand found my forearm again and I was starting to familiarize with the request.

"Don't," his mouth curled into a devious smile, "what's the worst they could do? It's more exciting if you might get caught."

I shook my head, pausing to consider his suggestion, then tucked my wand back up my cuffed sleeve, resigning. "You're trouble, Creevey. I thought Gryffindor's were supposed to be all noble; you're not that annoying, insufferable prat I remember."

"You're not exactly the snobby, rich-kid with a stick up his arse I remember either, Malf-"

I leant over, pressing our lips together to shut him up, the need for contact was overriding any desire for conversation. Colin's last words dissolved into a small groan in my mouth and he pushed back against me until he was sitting upright. He shrugged off his jacket with minimal effort and chucked it to the floor. His shirt, shoes and socks quickly joined it. I tugged the button of my slacks open and left them to loosely hang around my hips, pulling Colin back towards me. His hands found my shirt and managed to undo almost all of the buttons and only breaking off one. He moved to push the material off my shoulders and down my arms but I stopped him once he got past my biceps, feeling suddenly awkward.

"Malfoy-" Colin began.

"Just leave it, it's fine like this," I cut him short, flicking the shirt back up to rest on my shoulders again. Wasting no time to diminish the awkward moment, I wrapped my arms around his waist I pressed our bodies together, loving the feeling of bare skin on skin as our tongues fought for dominance in one another's mouths. Making out had always been my favourite thing to do; it made my stomach dip with what muggles would call butterflies, but what Malfoy's called snake bites.

"Mmm, Malfoy," Colin breathed against my neck as he broke apart and nuzzled into my shoulder, his hand had found its' way down my chest and into my pants where it rubbed the painfully hard bulge fighting against its' cotton constraints. "I want you to fuck me."

My hands were at his jeans, expertly popping the button open and pulling down his fly. Underneath there was no material, only a thick tuft of dark blonde hair and a dripping wet, hard cock. He wriggled the blue jeans down his legs far enough to kick them off. After helping him rid himself of the bothersome garment I attacked his mouth once more, steering us back down to a lying position whilst running my hand over the swollen head of his cock and smearing the generous amount of precum around the soft flesh. He swore into my mouth as I fisted the hard shaft slowly, teasingly until he oozed out more of the clear, warm fluid. It gathered on my fingertip with which I then let go of his dick and moved my hand down, to find his tight, puckered hole and rubbed his own precum into the soft opening. As I massaged his ass Colin moaned and pulled down the elastic band of my jocks to allow my achingly hard cock to spring out. He wrapped one hand around me and began pumping in rhythm to the digit work I was performing on him. I pushed one and then two fingers inside him, twisting around and apart as I finger fucked him and slowly stretched the warm, tight orifice. The noises escaping his mouth left me pining to feel him sheathing my cock, moaning my name, and when he started pushing back onto my hand I couldn't wait any longer. I retracted my fingers and he looked up at me with an understanding glint in his eye, his mouth still hanging slightly open. I placed my hands either side of his hips and made to turn them over, which he obligingly did so, propping himself up on his elbows and knees and giving me a lovely view of his heart shaped ass cheeks and eager hole, his head resting sideways on his arm to look at me from under his body.

"Merlin, fuck you and your perfect ass," I cursed and felt the snake bites tighten as I eyed the beautiful form before me.

"Isn't that the idea?" he smirked. I swear the man did it more than I did. I flicked my wrist and allowed my wand to slide down slightly and poke out my cuff just enough to mutter a lubrication charm and feel the warm, tingling sensation as it coated my dick. I flicked my wrist and the wand tip disappeared up my shirt sleeve again. Colin swayed his backside in front of me, teasingly, until I pulled it towards me with both hands and pressed the head of my cock against his entrance, hissing at the feel of such inviting heat. I toyed with the orifice, poking the tip in slightly and retracting it again several times until Colin was groaning and trying to push back onto me; I held him at a short distance with my hand on his right cheek. "Patience, Creevey," I lectured him, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. His asshole flexed and drew me in further, enough to make my eyelids flutter and in one swift movement I bit down on his collarbone and thrust myself in to the hilt. Colin gasped and bucked and fell forwards, a vulgar and guttural curse escaping his lips as he buried his face in the leather and adjusted to my girth and length.

"Shit, Malfoy, I- fuck," he groaned, wriggling his hips that I had trapped between my own and the car seat, indicating he was ready. I pulled out slowly gripping the car door for support as I aligned myself up again and pushed deep inside him once more. Another string of curses fell from his mouth punctuated by 'oh!'s' as I developed as steady rhythm, driving his cock into the leather seats and feeling his muscles contract deliciously around my dick. His ass was warm and wet and tight and everything it needed to be to make my balls taut and near their release. I angled my thrusts down slightly and received a loud "Oh fuck!" from the man beneath me. Grinning at having found his sweet spot, I allowed him to shift up slightly back onto his knees so that I could reach around and stroke his own weeping, neglected member, and then alternated thrusting into his prostate with jerking him off. I felt his own release building up and coming to climax as his moans grew thicker and his cock pulsated in my hand. I shoved myself as hard into him as I could then fisted the hard dick until he cried out and I felt the muscles around my own cock contract as he came all over my hand and the back seat. The sensation of his ass constricting around my own cock sent me over the edge, and I felt burst of hot white ecstasy rip through me and shoot out in long strings of pearly white cum, buried deep inside the younger man whose' name tore from my throat in a low groan. I fell forward, resting my forehead on Colin's shoulder and trying to catch my breath. Our skin slid along one another's slick with sweat and flushed all over.

"Now that," I panted, sliding my softening sex out of his body, "was fucking brilliant."

Colin turned over between my arms, looking up at me and grinning, "now who was saying he would have turned down an interview with me?"

"Well, if I had known you were such a good shag, and easy at that…" I let the comment hang for a few seconds and Colin play-hit my chest.

"I wasn't the one getting a fucking boner over works of art and giving me filthy fuck-me stares to when you thought I wasn't looking."

"Hey now," I lectured, sitting back and wiping my sticky fringe from my forehead. "That is no way to talk to your new partner, and by the way I also don't appreciate my work college hitting on cute waiters on the job."

Colin pushed himself up onto his elbows and smirked, "Partner?"

I rolled my eyes, "Yes, Partner. Your photography is more than good, and you know it. But don't get too overconfident, it makes for sloppy work."

"Was that sloppy?"

"_That _wasn't what I was referring to, you pompous shit. You'll be starting work this weekend, there's a conference with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement about reassessing the rule of Quidditch boundaries around muggle suburbs. I'll need you there to get some good shots." I tucked my dick back into my pants and leant back onto my heels to button up my shirt and allow Colin to sit all the way up to retrieve his own clothes.

"Well, it's no World Cup, but it's a start," Colin bit his lip as he smirked, tugging his singlet back over his head "and for the record, I hope that's not all you'll need me there for."

I rolled my eyes, "Just keep your eyes off the wait staff and I'll see what other uses I have for you."

"That's ok, minimum-wage brunettes aren't my type," Colin pushed his hair out of his face and gave me a knowing look.

_Cocky little prat, _I thought, not that I was complaining anymore.


End file.
